


(but all that I know) is I need you close

by ofhobbitsandwomen (litvirg)



Series: braime prompts [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, canon is distressing, this is an anti-love letter to tinder k bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litvirg/pseuds/ofhobbitsandwomen
Summary: It’s a match!The green words flashed across his screen, and  a smirk pulled the corners of Jaime’s mouth upwards.His screen was lit up with the match, Brienne’s startling blue eyes staring off to the side, her wide mouth open in laughter.prompt fill: braime + "we've been friends forever but we matched on tinder and at first i thought it was just a joke but ... uh. ... this is not a joke lol i love you"





	(but all that I know) is I need you close

_ It’s a match!  _

The green words flashed across his screen, and  a smirk pulled the corners of Jaime’s mouth upwards. 

His screen was lit up with the match, Brienne’s startling blue eyes staring off to the side, her wide mouth open in laughter. It took him a moment, but Jaime realized the knee just to her left belonged to his own cropped out body. It was from a work picnic, a mandatory team building sort of thing, that Jaime almost hadn’t gone to.  

He clicked on the match. 

In truth, he loathed tinder. Every time he used it he felt old and cynical. Out of touch. He’d deleted the app from his phone in a fit more than once, only to give in when the ache of sleeping alone night after night after night got to be too much. 

He’d matched with plenty of women but the monotony of the app bored him. He didn’t want to  _ grab a drink _ with ten different women who had all had the same conversation with him. He wanted to go out to dinner, in a back corner booth where no one would bother them, and then come home and curl up on the couch with a beer. He wanted someone to talk to, someone to feel. He wanted–

The empty chat stared up at him, taunting him. His fingers danced over the keyboard, nearly brushing out a quick  _ hello _ , before he decided against it. He had her number, he could text her hello at any time. 

He wondered idly if she’d seen the match yet. He’d never seen her on the app before, she must have only just signed up. He’d been a little surprised to even see her on it at all. But just a minute into his lazy swiping, there she’d been.  _ Brienne, 28 _ . 

Gods, that made him feel ancient. 

_ Funny seeing you here. I thought I’d set my preferences to “women” but apparently not. _ He typed out instead. 

He wondered if she realized by now that it was him, her Jaime, that she’d matched with. If she’d think of him first when the name came up on her screen with the message or if she’d think it was some other Jaime. 

Her reply came only a few minutes later. 

_ Ha ha, Jaime. How extraordinarily clever _ . 

His teeth worked at the inside of his cheek for a moment before he picked up his phone again. 

_ So how about it then? _ He sent.  _ Dinner + movie on friday? _

_ I’ll see you at work tomorrow  _ was all she wrote back. 

•••

Other than the deep shade of crimson her neck had turned when he’d first run into her in the elevator the next day, Brienne was giving no signs of even  _ remembering _ they’d matched, much less wanting to talk about it. 

He’d thrown her a wink and yelled back, “remember to check your calendar and get back to me!” as he’d left the elevator a stop before her, but other than a few annoyingly professional emails, he hadn’t heard anything from her.

On wednesday, he pulled his phone out and opened tinder. 

_ Netflix and chill more your style, wench? _

The nickname was an old one, one he rarely used anymore–much preferring the rounded letters of her stern name roll off his tongue, Brienne–but one he knew would get a rise out of her. 

•••

But still, nothing. 

He messaged her again on friday. 

_ I know you don’t have other plans. My place, 8pm.  _

_ ••• _

His phone buzzed just as he got out of the shower. A text from Brienne. 

_ You get three suggestions for tonight’s movie. Don’t waste them.  _

_ Also,  _ she’d added a minute later, _ I’ve ordered some food, I’ll grab it on my way.  _

He stared at the bottle of red wine and two glasses on his coffee table and wondered if lighting a candle would be too much. 

In the end he decided,  _ fuck it _ , and went ahead and lit it, and he’d just thrown his shirt and slacks on when he heard Brienne’s fist at the door. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” she came in, barely regarding him at all. “Traffic was a nightmare and apparently everyone and their brother wanted Chinese food tonight.” 

She was bustling around him, her shoes kicked off, bags brought into the kitchen, divvying up the food for them. It took Jaime a moment to catch up, but when he did, he closed the door slowly and made his way over to the kitchen where Brienne still hadn’t spared him a glance. 

He leaned against the doorway and watched her. 

She was sweaty, and he recognized what she was wearing as her usual gym clothes. He noticed a bag she’d dropped at the door, no doubt with her clothes from work stuffed into it. 

Finally she looked up at him. He had no idea what she was saying but she stopped, mid-sentence, her mouth opening and closing a few times before carrying on. 

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked eventually. 

“What?” Gods, how thick was this woman. “No.”

“But you’re–dressed.”

“Yes I tend not to be naked when I invite people over,” Jaime snorted. “Though I’m happy to make an exception if the cause is just.” 

“In date clothes, you’re dressed in date clothes.”

_ No shit _ , Jaime thought. But he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth turning up as he looked at her. The oversized jumper she always put on when her sweat started to dry after a workout, when she got too cold. Dark blue leggings that made his eyes want to crawl all the way up to hers from her ankles. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “This is a date.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Instead of answering him, Brienne just shook her head, huffing out an annoyed breath, and shoved a plate full of food at him before she stomped into the living room where he had the wine all set up.

“ _ Wench– _ ” he called after her playfully. 

She sat on the ground between the couch and the coffee table, shoving a fork full of dumpling into her mouth as she steadfastly ignored the empty wine glass in front of her. 

“Shall I pour?” he asked. 

Brienne dropped her fork down onto her plate with a loud clatter. 

“Alright Jaime,” she said, sounding even more annoyed with him than usual. “This is a bit much. You can stop now.”

“Stop? What–”

“The joke has run its course. Hilarious. Can we please just watch a movie now?”

It probably should have sparked pity in him. Compassion at the very least. 

Instead he felt an angry sore working its way across his gut. He dropped his plate down next to hers. 

“When  _ exactly _ ,” he snapped, “did I say I was joking?”

Her blue eyes latched onto his own. Staring, questioning, piercing into him. Her mouth was pinched in a frown, pulling her entire face down, long as it already was. In two steps he was beside her, pulling her up to him. 

“Jaime–” 

But words weren’t really his thing. And he didn’t want to have to use the word  _ Tinder _ in his life ever again. So instead of telling her she was the only bloody match he’d actually wanted to go out with, or explaining to her just how frustrating it was watching her not pay him any mind or take him seriously when he asked her out, he pulled her into him. 

He paused, a fraction of a breath away, looking to her mouth for permission. It was the tiniest of nods, but it was all he needed and then his lips were on hers, pulling her in, drinking up every drop she gave before she pulled away, resting her forehead down on his shoulder. 

He reached his left hand up, cupping her curved neck as it dipped down to reach her. 

“You still only get three movie suggestions,” she mumbled.

“Do shut up, Brienne,” he whispered into her ear. He let his lips linger there, pressing and nibbling at the tender skin for a moment before he spoke again. “Let me enjoy this for a moment.”

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts & stuff on tumblr @ofhobbitsandwomen


End file.
